TOO MANY INDICATORS

One more reminder. The old carnival shell game. Where's the pea? Maybe this picture isn't truly representative of that, but after this weekend, it's another tell tale sign.

I attended the Draft Position Bowl at The Ed in St. Louis where the two NFL teams playing had a combined 4-24 record. The Rams lost to win the sweepstakes.

During one of the many, many ads on the big screen, they played the old game of finding, in this case, the football hidden under three helmets and moved at high speed. Of course, I didn't get it right because my old eyes or old noggin couldn't follow. I offered a stab, was wrong, looked to our son who smiled as the ball was under number 2, the one he guessed.

This is the same son who asked me or rather announced after I had fallen on the basepath between second and third base during an intense wiffle ball game this Summer, "I thought you had broken a hip."

Saturday, as I volunteered to drive us to his daughter's basketball game at Rend Lake College where a Super Shoot Out was going on for grade school basketball he asked, "Are you still ok driving at night?"

I don't know which was worse. Our son's dry sense (I hope) of humor or my losing faculties that won't allow me to follow the old shell game anymore. I never get it right, except for an occasional lucky guess.

At least I still remember the words of the national anthem. It is " the rockets' red glare" and not blare, isn't it?